Redemption
by Rellik
Summary: Rory recieves a letter detailing the Chilton 10 year reunion. Are you not intrigued!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Redemption

Author: Rellik

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Rory/Paris

Spoilers: up until season 6, episode 15

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words and the pretty patterns they make. I'm borrowing the characters for colour.

Summary: It begins when Rory receives an invitation to the Chilton 10 year reunion.

Notes: School reunions, easy I know. But I intend to spin this baby in all sorts of crazy directions.

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Chapter 1

Saturday night. Movie night.

Lorelai checked her list.

"Let's see here," she said, tapping her pen against the pad.

"Saturday? Check. Night?" she took a moment to look around. Rory tilted her head, amused.

"Check. Movie?"

Here Lorelai waited a beat and then glared at her daughter. Rory turned up her hands. They were empty. She gave her mother a sheepish smile she hoped looked adorable enough to inspire forgiveness. The look on her mothers face was of deep disappointment.

"There were only three things on my list today. Three! And we couldn't even manage that," she said, slapping the pad down dismally on the kitchen table. She slumped, displaying posture not unlike a rag doll, and looked at the floor.

"Not my fault! I went running to the video store, but I ran into Taylor," Rory explained.

"Taylor," Lorelai grunted with disapproval.

"And he demanded my opinion on a new menu item."

"Menu," Lorelai grunted again.

"Then, after giving Taylor an opinion, that is after giving him one he accepted, I raced on and was stopped by Babette."

"Babette." Her frowned deepened.

"And she wouldn't let me leave until I told her all about how my job at the Standford Eagle Gazette was going and what it was like to be living on my own in and what brand of OJ I kept in the refrigerator."

"OJ."

"Then Miss Patty spotted us."

"Spotted."

"And I had to repeat most of what I'd told Babette."

"Told."

"So by the time I made it to the store, Kirk was locking up and he wouldn't let me rent even after I told him your mental health was at stake."

"The."

"Mom, you can't be mad at the word, 'the'," said Rory.

"Permission to continue hating OJ?" Lorelai asked.

"Granted," Rory said with a nod.

Lorelai look satisfied for a few seconds and then sighed.

"Don't we have anything around the house? Didn't you and Luke sort through all our videos?" Rory asked.

Lorelai brightened.

"Ooo! Riding the Bus with my Sister!" she exclaimed, and grabbed her daughter by the wrist, pulling her to the living room.

Soon they were sitting together in the flicker of the television set, throwing popcorn in their mouths with the lazy flops of their wrists, Paul Anka between them, the old dog his chin resting on Rory's thigh.

"It's as if you never left," Lorelai said suddenly.

Rory let a piece of popcorn melt in her mouth until she knew what to say. It had been an interesting past couple of years. Graduating at Yale, touring Europe, Asia and those exotic southern lands, breaking up with Logan, moving out on her own, marveling at the rapid rate her reputation at the Gazette grew. And after all that, a single step into Stars Hollow and the rhythm of the town had welcomed her back into the beat and kept on drumming.

"I don't think anyone can leave this place."

Lorelai was happy with the answer but Rory wondered if it was true. She had left and all but forgotten Stars Hollow and its warm, friendly chorus of villagers. That was five years ago. Lying on her old bed in her old room, the same as the day she left it, thoughts of the past couple of months floated lazily along the stream of her mind. Beginning with the letter she felt an energy charge her body as realization dawned on her that it had already been ten years since her well polished school shoes had echoed in the halls of Chilton.

The emotions struck her like a stampede as her eyes recognized the names of the two girls organizing the reunion. The stone shell that had engulfed her body and her soul cracked and then shattered and a self that had been denied breath for so long had gasped and crumpled into the sofa, tears glimmering and tender smile on trembling lips. It was overwhelming, like waking from a dream neither good nor bad but had been her prison.

Her eyes had wandered over the page, a smart, formal invitation, savoring each word as if were all she deserved from a life she had abandoned. She had cried herself to sleep, right there on the sofa, jacket still buttoned, skirt still tight and heals gnawing the skin from her bones. The invitation was held to the door of her refrigerator the next day, carefully, lovingly.

Like stars blinking to life in the night sky, pieces of her past had come back to her. Little things, tiny things, sparkling, twinkling and making her heart ache with shame and love. The trees, the grass, the very taste of the air and the texture of the sunburned wood of the park benches. Voices and faces, names and all the songs of affection she felt for each and every one of them.

Lane's song. Rory's heart had almost fallen apart as the tune and the words played in that sorry forgotten chamber of a best friend she had not shared a single word with in four whole years. She had visited a picture of her cheerful, spirited friend in her mind, frozen in the image of the last time she had seen her, standing there, waving, watching as Rory went on to bigger and better things.

Rory's only saving grace was keeping in touch with her mother. Piecing together a storyboard of Lane's life over the years, Rory had tried to picture her friend the successful Rock label manager Lorelai had tried to paint for her. Rory had smiled and stared at the phone on her work desk for days, weeks.

Lane was not the only person she had longed to call. The smaller strings of her heart tugged weakly, as if the overwhelmed organ knew it could not handle the sheer tempest of emotions thoughts of Paris would summon. Rory had tried ferociously to hold them back, focusing instead on the thousand of other glittering memories of Stars Hollow. It was as if she knew she didn't deserve to feel even an ounce of shame for neglecting the girl. But by disallowing herself to conjure even an image of Paris, she couldn't even begin to discern why.

She had planned the trip back home, easily earning herself a generous four months off work so long as she continued to send in small perspective pieces on generic social and political issues. Mr Wooles had agreed to the idea, eager to cash in on the influence of his star journalist, deciding its success would herald the dawn of a new era for the Standford Eagle Gazette. Rory hadn't asked what that era would be, but Mr Wooles had looked practically giddy with excitement.

A week she had been home. An hour she had been lying in bed. The reunion was in three days. The tiny strings tugged. Rory ignored them. They gave up the moment she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The bell at the top of Luke's Diner door rung as Lorelai bounced inside and held the door open for Rory. Passing through she looked up at it for the first time and decided it was her most favorite noise.

"I have coffee!" Liz proclaimed, whizzing out from behind the counter and setting too large mugs of coffee down at a table.

It looked to Rory like she bad been waiting there with the mugs in hand, forsaking all other customers regardless of how much a fuss Joe kicked up at the counter.

"For us I hope!" Lorelai said, taking a seat and clasping the mug in both hands like it were made of gold.

Rory sat opposite and slowly curled her fingers around the handle.

"Wouldn't dream of teasing the Gilmores with coffee," said Liz, taking the notepad from her apron and waving a pen in her hand.

"Smart lady," said Lorelai.

"Infinitely," added Rory.

"So tell me about your first week back home. All warm welcomes I hope," Liz said, tapping her pencil against Rory's shoulder.

"The warmest," said Rory.

"In fact," said Lorelai, "Instead of a fireplace, I was thinking of just having a few of the townspeople stand by the wall in our living room continuously welcoming Rory home."

"No fear of the house burning down," Liz encouraged.

"Egg! And Bacon! On toast!" Joe bellowed behind them.

"In a second!" Liz called back brightly. She looked down at the two women and smiled, pencil ready.

"What'll it be?"

"Pancakes?" Lorelai asked Rory.

"Sounds good," Rory agreed.

"Two serves of pancakes," said Lorelai to Liz.

"Light breakfast?" Liz asked, concerned.

"This is our second breakfast," said Rory.

"Right away, then," said Liz, and just as Joe inhaled to shout again, Liz slapped her pencil against his lips.

"Egg and bacon on toast, got it, Joe!" she said and then disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen.

Lorelai shifted in her seat, smiling at Rory.

"So," she said, "What time are you meeting Lane?"

"Twelve," said Rory. Her anxiety didn't escape her mother.

"Nervous?" she asked.

Rory found patterns in the grain plastic top of the table and tried to recognize exactly what she was feeling. Lane had tried to keep in touch. Rory had taken her calls for granted. They came less and less and without Rory even realizing it, she was not expecting them anymore. Even now as she tried to remember her best friend's phone number she couldn't complete it in her mind. The sequence of numbers, whatever she tried, sounded so foreign.

Lorelai seemed to sense everything her daughter was feeling. She reached across the table and slipped her hand over hers. Rory looked up and gathered some of her professional composure. But everything inside her was crackling. People lose touch as they grow older, establish their own lives. Rory had never believed it before leaving Chilton. The people in her life she would hold close forever. And then, in one fragile moment, that Rory died. She couldn't even pin point the exact moment. It had just happened.

Life was suddenly about ambitions and power and control, shiny cars, grand offices, the front page and the apartment with the best view. She had emptied her heart of feeling, exiled everything she cherished and cast them out, sealing herself in an impenetrable barricade of false treasures and insincere gestures to keep them from seeping back through her skin.

She filled her life with fleeting passions and heated affairs and called them meaningful. She had forgotten what it was truly like to connect with something, to connect, mind, body and soul to something, anything no more complex than a blade of grass that tickles the skin of a bare foot. She had not even truly connected with her mother until she made the call to say she was coming home.

Now, Lorelai gave her daughter's hand a squeeze.

"I know you're back," she said.

Rory's eyes lifted, hoping.

"And Lane will know it too," Lorelai assured her.

Rory took in a breath and relaxed.

"Luke and April come back on the seventh?" Rory asked.

"That was the plan," said Lorelai.

"She must have grown a lot since I last saw her," said Rory.

"A fair bit."

"Freshman at Yale," Rory nodded, and then winced silently as a thousand images of her first year at Yale crashed into her mind at once. Looming buildings, filled auditoriums, millions of books, hundreds of people, that mattress. Rory tried to slow them down. Endless parties, intimidating professors, the smell of glue. She held her breath and willed everything to stop. Sand, sun, historical documentaries, drinks, music, dancing, lights…

"Here's your pancakes!" Liz said, and Rory felt everything flutter from her mind like startled seagulls. She didn't even try to remember what she was grateful to Liz for.

"Yummy!" Lorelai chirped and attacked the golden brown syrup soaked pancake with knife and fork.

It was delicious and Rory allowed herself the simple pleasure of enjoying good tasting food. The breakfast they had tried to enjoy at home had burnt in a spectacular display of little flames and Lorelai had decided it was time for a new toaster. Rory watched her mother eat. In many ways she looked the same as she ever did. At first Rory thought the years had decided to leave her alone. As her eyes held the image of her mother's face she could see there was something about the glow of her eyes.

They were steady. Rory couldn't help but feel a gentle tremor of shock beholding such strength and calm. She felt she were looking into seas of moments in which Lorelai had sailed against violent and terrifying storms, swam furiously through raging waters, floated peacefully down tranquil streams and sunk to the bottom of deep darkened pools. Still, they glowed.

Outside Lorelai touched her daughter's arm.

"I'm going to head to the Inn. Now are you going to make your own way to Hartford or do I pick you up at home?"

"I'll make my own way," said Rory.

"Okay. Say hi to Lane for me," said Lorelai, and she went hopping off the curb and was soon driving off in the old jeep.

"I don't even know what I'm going to say to Lane," Rory sighed aloud and then smiled because she hadn't spoken to herself in years. It was funny, she had lived alone for so long but had not enjoyed her own company since her sophomore year of Yale. Sitting alone in her room, exhausted after digging her way out of a grave of assignments, simple times when she still held onto that delicate notion that she was still Rory.

She made her way to Doose's Market and as she stepped onto the road to cross the square she could see Kim's Antiques, the yard scattered with the same old chairs, tables and benches and baskets as they had been seven years ago. She was supposed to be meeting Lane at the mall but she still had a few hours to while by. Smiling, Rory crossed the square, her chest suddenly fluttering with an unfocused compulsion.

She pushed open the door.

"Everything half off!"

Rory grinned and shook her head. Everything was half off seven years ago.

"Really? That's an incredible deal," Rory called into the maze of tangled old wood.

As she moved carefully through the jungle, relishing the smell of the ancient mahogany and balsa, a figure suddenly turned out in front of her. Gray was claiming her hair and time was gripping her skin but flames still burned as brilliantly in her eyes as Rory remembered them.

"Rory?" Mrs Kim breathed, surprised.

"Hey, Mrs Kim," Rory said, smiling.

"I heard you were back in town. Something about a fancy silver car and four hundred dollar pair of shoes," Mrs Kim snapped disapprovingly.

"I do have a fancy silver car but these shoes were only thirty dollars," Rory assured her, lifting her heal. Mrs Kim assessed her footwear critically and then her eyes flashed up at her again.

"You reek of city. Horrid place. Corrupts the soul. You look corrupted," the old woman sneered, disgusted.

Rory nodded.

"I feel corrupted," she said.

Mrs Kim blinked at the honesty and her small but solid frame softened. A hardened spirit, Mrs Kim could respect a confession. She glared Rory up and down, burning her all over not with loathing but something more compassionate.

"Come. I will make us some tea," she said finally.

"Thank you," said Rory.

It might have been strange to sit with the mother of her best friend, alone in the tiny kitchen still in the smell of herbs, spices and tofu. Rory found it as comforting as she expected it to be. Mrs Kim poured the pale green liquid into a small cup and Rory watched the steam roll up to the ceiling.

"You are meeting Lane today," said Mrs Kim, as she sat down. There was a lot in her voice and Rory knew she had to be careful.

"At the mall, yes," she replied.

A silence ticked by. Rory sipped her tea.

"I shouldn't have let today drift so far," she said. Mrs Kim looked up at her and then smiled. Rory felt more stone crack and fall from her shoulders.

The look in the old woman's eyes said that she knew Rory was talking about more than meeting her daughter. After tea Mrs Kim followed Rory to the front door and hung in the doorway as Rory stood, admiring the yard. Rory smiled and turned to face her.

"I'd like to buy something," she said. The flames in Mrs Kim's eyes danced eagerly.

"What are you after?" she asked.

Rory looked around.

"Everything here," said Rory, gesturing to the antiques that littered the yard.

"Is all half off," Mrs Kim told her.

"I'll take it all," said Rory, and before Mrs Kim could perfect the look of shock that had sprung on her features, Rory held up her hand.

"But I'm not going to take it with me. I want you to keep everything the way it is," she said.

Mrs Kim softened again, understanding. Rory needed something to be stable. She needed to be responsible for it.

"Very well," she said, then she chirped, "I will get the calculator!"

Rory waited in the yard. She tried to think of the last time she had visited the Kim's Antique shop. Instead a quake of nerves rumbled in her chest as she thought about the Chilton school reunion. She tried not to let faces flood her mind. She wanted to see them, but not before she deserved to.


End file.
